Doubts
by Hazel Eyes 10
Summary: It finally looked like "Happily Ever After" until second thoughts began to worm their way into the mind of Hermione Granger. These are the few times the brightest witch of her age has ever doubted. Rating has changed. Starts canon then slips into AU.
1. Incertitude

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

**Doubts**

Hermione gazed at the engagement ring resting innocently on her left hand. She mentally smacked herself for the thoughts she was having, but they were hounding her mercilessly.

Of course she wanted to marry him. She'd always imagined being married to him. She had dreamt of this moment for so long.

_But that's not the whole truth, is it?_

She held her forehead in her right hand. Wasn't this supposed to come naturally?

It was just so early. It had taken her by surprise. What was she to say in front of the entire Weasley family?

_No._

She needed time to think things through. To consider the pros and cons. To analyze the situation.

But now it was too late of course. She said _yes._

And never before in her life had she been so unsure of an answer.

What was she jumping into? To sum up, a lifelong commitment with a short tempered red-head who never took anything seriously and would most likely drive her mad within the first year.

But that was why she loved him, right?

_Right?_

Not to mention that the timing of the proposal was awfully coincidental. She had a feeling that he proposed because _he _had proposed. And his had been beautiful…

Honestly, what was wrong with her? She should be happy – thrilled – ecstatic! Yet here she was, moping in the middle of the night in the October cold. Around her, the leaves were dying, falling to the ground, lifeless. It was hauntingly beautiful, and yet deeply sad.

"Oy, Hermione! What are you doing out here?" Ron's booming voice made her jump out of her reverie. "It's bloody freezing."

She looked back to the Burrow from her seat on the garden bench. A small smile crept up her cheeks. He trudged over, bringing along a coat that he wrapped around her shoulders.

"Do you want to catch your death or what?"

"I needed the fresh air is all," she shrugged.

"You're a strange one," he took a seat, pulled her against him and planted a kiss in her hair. "You gave me a little scare, waking up to an empty bed. Give me some warning next time."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were such a child," she teased lightly.

"Hey! Give me a break, will you? It's just 'cause I love you that I worry."

Hermione giggled softly and kissed the corner of his mouth. He didn't say sweet things very often.

They sat there, cuddled for warmth, and Hermione began to think that maybe she could do this after all.

"I had a brilliant idea for the wedding that I think you'll like," Ron said, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

Hermione's heart faltered. She chose to ignore it.

"Oh, _you're_ making plans?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not completely incompetent at weddings; I've seen one or two of them get planned out," said Ron, feigning hurt. "How 'bout we have a joint wedding?"

"Excuse me?"

"A joint wedding: you, me, Harry and Ginny," Ron said with a growing smile. "I've already run the idea by everyone, they're all for it." He awaited her approval.

Her eyes slowly filled with horror. The very idea made her want to vomit.

"A joint wedding?" she breathed."Ron, don't you think that as your _fiancée_," her throat tightened, "_I_ should have been the first to know about ridiculous ideas such as that?"

"Ridiculous? It's a good idea; we're all close, it would make the ceremony that much more special," Ron withdrew his arms from her shoulders.

"That's beside the point. Why would you tell everyone about this without first consulting _me?_"

"What does it matter? It's brilliant and if you like it –"

"I don't," it came out harsher than she wanted.

"Well then, fine," he huffed as he bounded to his feet. "Seeing as I'm incapable of giving any helpful suggestions after all, why don't you just plan it all by yourself?" He hastily stomped back to the Burrow.

Her hand clenched into a fist and she wished he had something to punch. Not _again. _She was so tired of these bouts of bickering. Her eyes watered out of frustration. They weren't even married yet and these fights were already constant. They were practically programmed to lash out at each other. She didn't know how to stop it.

What was marriage with him going to be like? What kind of example would they be to children?

Would she even be happy?

She heard footsteps of crunching leaves approach her and she sighed in exasperation. She quickly wiped her eyes, trying to be subtle.

"What now, Ronald?" she snapped.

"You know, you're scary when you're angry; Ron is quite a brave man when you think about it," joked a tenor voice that was not Ron's.

Hermione turned and saw Harry clad in pajama bottoms and a coat. He sat where Ron was only a moment ago. She sighed.

"Did we wake everyone?"

"Just me. I think being a heavy sleeper is a Weasley trait. You couldn't wake them in the middle of the night no matter how many firecrackers you put off," Harry attempted once again to lighten the mood.

She chuckled.

"I'm sorry for waking you," she twirled a strand of hair in her finger. "I just wish he didn't make me mad all the time. I care about him, but he is an idiot," she said, half jokingly. Harry's presence alleviated her frustration.

"What did he do this time?"

Hermione turned her head away, slightly ashamed.

"He told me about his 'brilliant' idea about the joint wedding," she rolled her eyes. "I suppose I should expect him to overlook asking for my opinion first."

Harry chose not to respond; instead he took her hand in his and brushed it with his thumb. She leaned her head on his shoulder, appreciating the comfort. For a while they remained in companionable silence. It had been a long time since they'd been alone together.

"Would it be so bad?" Harry finally asked.

"Pardon?" Hermione blinked.

"The joint marriage."

Just the thought of it made her feel queasy. However, now that she thought about it, that wasn't reason enough to say it was a _bad _idea. If anything, Ron was right; they were the closest of friends since their first year. It would be a way of beginning their grown up lives together. Still, many things bothered her about it.

"Wouldn't you want a wedding day to be yours and Ginny's alone? It would be strange for all of us to have the same anniversary… and the hassle of getting the arrangements to everyone's liking would be a nightmare," Hermione listed.

"I would love nothing more than to share that special day with the people most special to me," Harry countered. "You may have a point about the decorations and all that, but that's not my problem; I just need to smile and nod when asked for my opinion." His smile was contagious and soon she found that she was laughing.

"I suppose you may be right this time. I'll consider it," Hermione sighed. "I feel bad, I shouldn't have snapped at him like that."

"He'll forgive you."

She smiled gratefully to Harry. For a moment their eyes locked and, by some magnetic force, she couldn't bring herself to look away. Suddenly the doubts that had burdened her before Ron's arrival crashed into her like a wave. The thought of marriage scared her and before she knew it she was blurting out her fears.

"What if I'm rushing into this? The wedding, marriage, starting a family… I mean, we're still so young and I've got loads of things to do and settling down might hinder those achievements; there will be so many more responsibilities to worry about. And what if we fight all the time and it doesn't work out and –" she choked on a small sob.

"Hermione, where is this coming from?" Concern filled his emerald eyes.

"I-I don't know," she exhaled. "I have so much running through my head these days."

He brushed away a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I'm sure that despite the differences you have with Ron, you can make this marriage work if you want it to work. You're an amazing person, Hermione. In the end, though, you should decide on what makes you happiest."

Her eyes widened slightly; when did Harry get so good at comforting others? Then she realized – he most likely got the practice when Ginny became overemotional. Which was quite often.

"You're not scared even a little?"

"Well, yeah. Maybe a little," Harry admitted.

A forbidden question started to bubble within her chest, fighting to get out. It clawed at her vocal chords and soon her lips were forming the words.

"Harry," she focused on the green grass at her feet, unable to look at him. "Have you ever _wondered?_"

He didn't answer; she imagined the puzzled expression on his face as he tried to understand what she meant, but ultimately failing. "Wondered about what?"

The line; she could see it. It was always there, some times more prominently than others. It appeared now as a bold, solid trace and she had carelessly dipped a toe into the other side.

But she couldn't bring herself to cross it. She never could. This unknown scared her even more than any marriage with Ron.

"Erm, about what it would be like if…" she panicked as she searched for something to say.

A sudden pop near the Burrow drew their attention and Hermione was utterly thankful for the distraction. A flash of long red hair and bags appeared out of thin air. Soon Ginny was distinguishable as she dusted off her Quidditch robes.

Harry sent a look to Hermione which she assumed meant that they would talk later. He made his way to the girl attempting to shoulder more bags than she seemed capable of carrying.

"Back already?"

Ginny turned around and shrieked in joy as she ran into Harry's arms. Hermione watched from afar, smiling and waving once Ginny noticed she was there. The couple then proceeded to bring her luggage inside, all the while discussing her tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself when a chilly breeze picked up. This was the way it was supposed to be. Everyone would be happy in the end; Merlin knows they've earned it.

Even so, she avoided Harry as much as she could after that night.

A/N: Shall I continue?


	2. Incredulity

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Outside the Burrow, the summer night was peaceful. The crickets sang as per usual, nocturnal creatures played in the dark and the full moon hung high in the sky. All were unperturbed by the magically concealed tent in the yard where numerous people were attending the wedding of the two most famous couples in the Wizarding World.

Inside, the tent fell in a gracious upside down V above their heads as the guests enjoyed the wedding cake at their luxurious round tables. Chandeliers glowed a golden hue, giving the tent a radiant and magical ambience. The subjects of this wedding were seated along a long table with their parents, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen.

A blond groomsman stood up and clanged his glass, asking for everyone's attention. All heads turned to him.

"I have a couple of things to say," Neville began. "First of all, how gorgeous is this place? You've truly outdone yourself, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley smiled bashfully, tickled by the compliment and the applause from the guests.

"Secondly, if someone could bring me some more cake, that would be great," Neville joked somewhat nervously.

When no one reacted, he cleared his throat and carried on, now serious.

"And thirdly, a toast. This day is momentous. It's the beginning of a happier time. It's proof that we can move on from the horrors of the past. Out of the ashes will rise a beautiful era rooted in love."

Neville turned to the newlyweds.

"The union of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley as well as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger is not only the union of my dearest friends. It is also the symbol of a new, peaceful chapter in the Wizarding World. And that's why your futures together will shine the brightest of all. I love you guys."

The guests applauded passionately at the heartfelt speech. They raised their glasses and drank in the name of the newlyweds.

Tears were welling up in Hermione's eyes as she beamed at Neville. She hugged him tightly, breathing a thank you in his ear. She was utterly thankful for her waterproof makeup. The other three proceeded to hug Neville.

Music soon filled the air and the first dance between husband and wife was announced by the magnified voice of Lee Jordan. Ron took her hand in his as Harry took Ginny's and they floated to the middle of the room.

Ron sloppily moved her around the dance floor, though he attempted to look like he knew what he was doing.

"This will be the last time I ever dance, I swear," Ron whispered in her ear jokingly.

"I told you we should've practiced," Hermione said.

"Not worth the trouble." He didn't mean it in a harsh way, she knew, but the comment still stung a little.

She looked over at the other couple and caught Ginny's gaze. Ginny grinned. She looked gorgeous in her large, frill dress that puffed out like a duster. Her red hair was tied in a bun on her head, topped with her great aunt Muriel's tiara. Hermione felt that her form fitting strapless dress didn't even compare to Ginny's exquisite attire. The front of her brown hair was pulled back and her long curls flowed down her back. Instead of a tiara, she magically placed a white lily on the side.

She smiled back then sharply looked to her dance partner when he mistakenly stepped on her foot. He breathed an apology and she laughed it off.

Lee Jordan's voice rang over the music, "Alright, time for you two couples to switch partners now!"

Hermione's eyes widened, but everyone else seemed to find this natural. Ron kissed her then extended his hand to his sister who made a show of being bashful.

She had no choice; after careful avoidance throughout the day, she finally looked at Harry. She had done her best to remain aloof of his presence, but now her pretence had to come to an end. His arm was extended and a small, warm smile tugged at his lips.

She flashed back to another night, in another tent, far away from here, when the same man at seventeen had offered her his hand. As she took it, she saw her younger self being led to the middle of the tent and slowly coaxed into a comforting dance. In the present, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he laced his around her waist, drawing her close to him.

In her mind, a part of a song that she hadn't heard in years looped in her mind.

_I once was blind_

_But now I see_

As their younger selves were twirling around in the past, Harry and Hermione were shifting from side to side in slow circles. The music guided them and narrowed down the world to them alone.

She wanted to say something – _anything_ – to get rid of this strange atmosphere, but she was speechless when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. A thought that she should never think of in _this_ particular way was yearning to surface to the front of her mind, but she absolutely refused to acknowledge it.

The slow song came to a stop at last. She saw herself, four years ago, turning away from him, her mind refocusing on Ron, her _love_. This time, however, she was frozen in place.

In the silence between songs, ominous words rang through her head that chilled her to her core:

"…_Then I declare you bonded for life."_

The line between them was growing in size before her eyes. Despite their physical contact, he was more out of reach than ever before.

This was it. She and Ron were to be together forevermore, as were Harry and Ginny.

This was happily ever after.

_Right?_

A fast paced song began, inviting the guests to join on the incredibly large dance floor. Harry leaned down to kiss her flushed cheek, squeezed her hand that had come down from the nape of his neck and said that she looked breathtaking. She barely had time to thank him as Ginny quickly reclaimed her husband, dragging him in a not-so-subtle manner to the other side of the dance floor, looking puzzled and less than pleased.

Ron came up beside her, pulled her chin up with two fingers and kissed her. She kissed him back weakly.

"I'm glad that's over with," Ron said over the music. "Care for a seat?"

"Sure, I'll just get something to drink from the punch bowl first."

They walked across the room, getting stopped on the way frequently by guests and family members wishing to congratulate the newlyweds. Ron soon got pulled into a dance with one of his aunts. He sent Hermione a horrified look while she simply laughed good-heartedly at his fate. She continued on her way to the punch bowl.

"You look lovely, Hermione," said an airy voice as she was pouring herself a drink. It was instantly recognizable.

"Luna, you made it!" Hermione gave her an awkward hug to keep her glass of punch from falling on to anyone's dress.

"My expedition got cut short. It turned out to be rain season and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks hate the rain," Luna said. "It's better off this way; I wouldn't have wanted to miss this."

Hermione shook her head fondly at her friend's impossible mission. One day, she'll have no choice but to admit that the creature simply did not exist.

"We've – I've– missed you at the office. I have so much to catch you up on my progress for House Elf rights."

Luna shook her head in quite the same manner. In her eyes, _Hermione's_ goal seemed impossible. They would often tease each other about the other's ambitions in good fun.

"Congratulations, by the way," Luna breathed, fiddling with her odd green dress. "Ron is a good man. You're very lucky."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. She glanced to the dance floor and saw that Ron was still trapped in his aunt's pudgy arms. Ginny was now dancing with Neville and Harry was in a deep conversation with a man whose back was turned to her.

"You know, this is silly now, but I always thought you and Harry would be together."

Hermione's heart fluttered, her eyes sparkling with surprise.

"What made you think that?"

"You're practically the same person. Sometimes you communicate with just one look which leaves others outside the loop. It annoys Ron quite a bit."

"Everything annoys Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes, only somewhat serious. "But that's hardly an argument."

"Well, you're best friends. That's the most solid of foundations for a relationship. And a marriage," Luna's blue eyes grew as she zealously listed her reasons.

"Ron and I are… well, I suppose I wouldn't call us best friends per se, but we _are_ close."

"But Sparks sometimes fly around you two. You know, Hengelbee Sparks. They're rare tiny creatures that light up around people in love." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I have yet to capture one. It's quite difficult. They don't like to be bothered."

"Of course." Hermione agreed in the hopes of changing topics.

"They appeared around you when you danced just now. With Harry." Luna stated lightly.

Hermione's breathing suddenly grew heavy. She had no reason to acknowledge what Luna was saying – it made utterly no sense after all – but her words had inexplicably struck her and now she was close to hyperventilating.

"Don't be ridiculous, Luna. I can assure you there were no Hellebee –"

"Hengelbee," Luna corrected.

"_Hengelbee Sparks,_" Hermione almost spat. "Harry and I would've never been _romantically involved; _the very idea is preposterous. I can barely stand to think of it."

Hermione knew she was harsh but she couldn't help her defensiveness. Luna gave her a strange, wide eyed look which she interpreted as disbelief.

"I'm serious; no one would be any less suited for me. I mean…" she fought to find a reason why they would be incompatible but bafflingly wound up with none. "That simply never would have worked," Hermione huffed.

"Ouch – I had no idea you felt that way, 'Mione."

Her heart tumbled out of her chest and splattered on to the floor.

She slowly turned around. The familiar round glasses and smile greeted her.

"Oh _Harry, _you picked the absolute worst time to listen in," Hermione said shakily, covering her face with her hand.

"Hey, I get it; you never would've fallen for me, no matter how hard I would've worked to charm you. If I wasn't already married, I'd be hurt," he joked good-naturedly.

Hermione wanted to refute the claim, but she choked on her words. Obviously it was just a joke. He didn't honestly mean that he would've attempted to … Why was she thinking about this? Why was she burning up?

Suddenly Luna's hands clamped the air at nothing in particular, making them jump.

"Luna, what on _earth?_" Hermione asked.

"Sorry about that – I was just trying to get a Spark." Luna looked about ready to start again.

Harry sent Hermione a puzzled look, "Should I even ask?"

Hermione couldn't answer; she was beginning to hyperventilate again. Something in her was about to break, like a dam against a raging current. It was like she was suppressing a firework from exploding. Spots blurred her vision and she felt she was drowning.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry placed his hand on her arm and it sent chills up her spine. It shouldn't send _chills up her spine!_

She shook his hand off and excused herself abruptly, rushing to the exit of the tent. She ducked her head so she wouldn't be seen by Ron, now free from his torturous dance. Others were trying to grab her attention as she darted away. She ignored them.

It was a gorgeous July night outside; the full moon still hung high in the sky, but now it was dead silent. All Hermione could hear was the breaking of her heart.

Rogue tears ran down her cheeks and she heaved. What kind of cruel twist of fate was this?

For on the day of her wedding to one man, she finally realized her love for another.

_I once was blind_

_But now I see_

'…_I love Harry…'_


	3. Misgiving

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Hermione read her speech over and over as she paced the length of her office, her brow furrowed. It absolutely had to be _perfect; _too many influential people were to attend and it was crucial to persuade them that the release of enslaved House Elves was irrefutable. She had come a long way from the bashing she received a couple years back for the first article she had published in the Daily Prophet; people were starting to listen.

She tried to force her mind to focus solely on her speech, but it rebelled. The pain in her abdomen had been distracting her all morning. She rubbed it, hoping to relieve some of the throbbing. Her lips moved at a high speed but were suddenly tripped by a sharp knife-like pain to her sides and she folded over, one hand gripping the desk. Her time of the month couldn't have started on a worse day.

Three knocks at the door brought her back to reality and she jumped into an appropriate position, smoothing out her blouse and skirt. She took a deep breath which made her wince a little. She invited the visitor inside.

Harry walked in wearing particularly fancy clothes. He looked dressed for a special occasion. Hermione blinked her surprise.

"Hey 'Mione," he greeted casually.

"Harry," so many questions popped into her head at once that she didn't know which one to ask first. Instead, she decided not to ask any at all. "It's nice to see you."

Truth be told, they barely saw each other anymore. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a private conversation with the man who had once been her best friend. She deflated a little. Yes, it had taken a long time to come to terms with, but she realized they weren't as close as they used to be. Now, it seemed, they were simply relatives that chatted briefly about the weather and work at occasional family gatherings.

It made her very sad.

"It's nice to see you too. You look great." She blushed, not expecting the complement. All she had done was curl her hair and put on a touch of makeup. Ron never would have noticed.

"You don't look too bad yourself. What's the occasion?"

"Your conference, of course," Harry stated matter-of-factly, grinning as he saw her pleasant surprise. "What better way is there to spend my day off? I came over here to wish you good luck."

"Oh Harry." Her feet brought her to him and she hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. I'm sure Ron would be here if he could." She could just see Ron's disgusted face at the idea of attending any conference about House Elves.

"Believe me, he's happier locked up in his office with a swamp of paperwork to do all day." She let go of Harry and offered him a seat.

"Are you sure you have time to talk?"

"For you, always."

She sat in her padded chair as he took the visitor's seat. She tried not to wince as her discomfort slowly increased. She subtly rubbed it with slow circles.

"We don't talk much anymore nowadays, do we?" It wasn't _really_ a question. Hermione was taken aback by his sudden bluntness.

"I suppose we don't. We've all gotten so busy with our careers." She tried shrugging it off.

"Yeah."

He looked like he had more to say; he looked conflicted.

"Harry…" she said cautiously. "Is everything alright?"

He seemed to snap out of a trance, realizing that he must've looked like a fool.

"Sorry, there's a lot going on in my head," he smiled unconvincingly. He changed the subject, "I've heard about the job offer from Cooper," he grew somber. "Are you going to take it?"

She fiddled with her skirt.

"I haven't thought about it all that much. I've had other things on my mind."

"But you're considering it."

Hermione looked away. Many still held on to the old fashioned ways, unwilling to give up what has been engraved in tradition. This greatly hindered her advancement for House Elf rights. Sometimes her work seemed like the futile endeavor that Luna would often claim it was. Of late, she _had_ seriously considered the job offer from the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Many Pureblood laws needed to be changed. After all, how were wizards and witches to accept magical creatures for who they were if they couldn't accept differences among their own kind first?

Not to mention that she would work more in conjunction with the Auror Department, which would mean a lot more excitement. It also meant more time with her husband. And Harry.

She wasn't sure if that was such a good thing.

"Is this the reason you came here?"

"Hermione, you know it's still very dangerous. Voldemort's gone, but people with similar mindsets won't hesitate to kill you for the radical ideas you have."

"Don't you think I realize that?" Hermione's anger began to filter through. "I'm not a child; I _don't_ need your protection."

He grasped her hand with his and held it tight, almost to the point of discomfort.

"I just…" His eyes were pleading. "I couldn't bear for you to be in danger." She saw something that had never shown in his eyes before; it was deeper than concern. She couldn't quite discern it; it was puzzling… and thrilling. He released her hand; it still stung. He paused for a while, seeming to struggle to find his words. She hadn't seen Harry this ruffled in a long time.

"And what if you and Ron have children soon? They would be at risk too," he finally breathed.

Hermione suddenly felt uneasy. Ron must have started flaunting that they were going to start trying. It was so strange to begin with; not so long ago they were mere children themselves. And they were still young as it was. She wasn't sure she was ready for such responsibilities what with her ambitions for her career. Of course doubts haunted her: what if she was a horrible mother? What if she ended up neglecting them by putting her work first? She couldn't bear the thought.

On the other hand, Ron couldn't have children soon enough; it was no secret that he wished for a large family, four or five children. Fortunately, they had compromised for three. She secretly hoped that by the second one, however, he would be discouraged to try for another.

The origin of her uneasiness was not only the fear of incompetence; that was the fear of every parent-to-be. No, her uneasiness came from the fact that when she imagines the little tykes running around and scraping their knees or flying on broomsticks, she doesn't see them with Ron's red hair and brown eyes.

She sees messy black hair and the emerald eyes that were staring at her at this very moment.

And it utterly killed her inside.

Her abdominal pain was worsening, but she forced herself to ignore it; she had a presentation to do in very little time and she needed to be well for it. She would need to wrap this conversation up quickly.

"So much for keeping it secret," Harry rolled his eyes in understanding; everyone knew Ron couldn't keep quiet about anything.

She knew she shouldn't pry, she knew she shouldn't even remain on this subject of conversation. She had much more important duties to undertake. But the opportunity to ask was right in front of her. Her curiosity was always her greatest quality – and her greatest fault.

"Have you and Ginny talked about it at all?"

His gaze dropped, "We'd have no time to spare. She's always away in other countries with her Quidditch team and I'm constantly working at odd hours. It would be a very bad idea right now."

This information somehow made Hermione feel lighter.

"But I can't wait," he looked back up, his eyes bright. "I've always wanted a family of my own. A _loving_ family."

His words gripped her heart like a vice, choking her. She needed this to stop; this stupid, futile, unrequited love that kept her from truly being with her husband. It made her feel sick. It made her feel _dirty._ Many years ago, she would have given everything up for the life she was living right now. But now, her life had become nothing but a lie. Every single time she told herself that things would work out was nothing but a goddamn _lie. _Someday, she feared, it would have to end. She dreaded the thought of ruining what the whole world saw as _perfect._

Hermione's eyes suddenly watered – searing pain exploded from her abdomen and spread across her body. She screamed and fell from her chair, clutching her midsection.

"Hermione!"

Harry was instantly beside her, holding her, repeatedly urging her to tell him what was wrong. But she couldn't answer; her breath had been stolen and she could only gasp wildly for air. She screeched as the pain shot through her again and again, until her vision spotted, then faded to darkness.

The first thing she could hear when her consciousness crept back was voices. They were talking quickly and she couldn't quite catch what they were saying. She struggled to open her eyes and they lazily obeyed. Two unfamiliar heads turned in her direction. She wanted to sit up from the bed she was laying in but was quickly stopped by pain.

"You mustn't move, Mrs. Weasley. You've just undergone a delicate operation," said the man she assumed to be a Healer.

She was in St-Mungo's. She was in a bed.

_And she hadn't given her speech!_

"Please, if all is well, I must leave immediately." She pushed away the sheets but was taken aback by the sight of patient robes. "Where are my clothes?"

The woman in the room, the nurse most likely, was instantly by her side, settling her back in the bed. Hermione attempted to struggle but was much too weak to put up anything close to a fight.

"In a pool of blood is where they are, Mrs. Weasley." the Healer's grave response finally caught Hermione's attention. "You need rest. You are stable as long as you avoid any sudden movements."

"What happened?"

"I will return with the details momentarily. Until then, please rest. I will allow your visitors to see you now."

The Healer and the nurse strode out and it was only a moment before Ron and Harry all but rushed into the room.

Ron squeezed her hand as he knelt by her bedside. Harry stood at some distance.

"I came as soon as I could. Are you alright?" Ron asked.

She squeezed his hand back, "I think I am. Oh, but my speech, what am I to do?"

"I told everyone at the conference that you couldn't make it because of unexpected circumstances. They'll come back on a rescheduled date."

Hermione closed her eyes in relief, "Thank you, Harry. You're truly a lifesaver."

"So I've been told," he said in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. She smiled and extended her hand for him to take. He seemed to hesitate at first, but he slowly came closer and reached out to interlock fingers with her.

"Do you know what happened?"

"You were in so much pain. The instant you fainted I apparated us here and they took you in right away. They haven't explained what the problem is yet."

The look of deep concern was there again and it made her heart toss in her chest. She didn't understand it; all she knew is that she needed to look away.

"They've kept us waiting for hours," Ron said, effectively ruining the moment. "It wouldn't kill anyone to put a simple cushioning charm on the chairs around here. But Hermione, how did you just collapse out of nowhere?"

"Well, I've had a sort of pain all day, but I thought they were merely menstrual cramps," the two men cringed in disgust. "I didn't think it was something serious."

The Healer re-entered the room and asked for the two men to leave for the time being. Ron attempted to convince the Healer to let them stay but ultimately failed. He grumbled and kissed Hermione for a bit longer than was appropriate. Harry withdrew his hand from her grasp and hastily left the room. Once the two visitors were out, The Healer closed the door.

"Mrs. Weasley," he began. "Do you know what might have caused this incident?"

"No, sir."

"Then this will be a bit of a shock for you; I sincerely apologize. The reason you were in such excruciating pain is because you were pregnant."

Her mind went numb.

"You were 4 weeks pregnant, to be exact. The pregnancy, however, was ectopic. This means that the embryo implanted itself on to the Fallopian tube rather than the uterus. As a result, the tube, being not at all intended to expand with the size of the embryo, ruptured and caused internal bleeding and infection. The damage was severe; In all honestly, you almost didn't make it."

Hermione could barely register what was being said. She felt like she was being tossed round in a sea of torrential emotions. She clenched the robes at her belly; she had lost a child she wasn't even aware she was carrying. She was torn between the desolation of the death of a baby and the relief of her survival. But what gave her the right to be relieved; shouldn't she have gone with the unborn child?

"I know this is a lot of information to give you, too much in fact, but it must be said. Due to the extensive damage done to your Fallopian tubes, it is highly unlikely that you will conceive again. In the event that you do, it will, in all probability, lead to a miscarriage."

She felt like someone had punched her in the gut so hard that she would never breathe again. The feeling of loss was devastating. Not only did she just lose a child, but sher fertility had also been robbed. Sadness and anger clashed. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked her robes.

"Shall I inform Mr. Weasley?"

_Ron. _No, no, _no!_ Her sobbing magnified and she barely managed to nod her head. The Healer walked out and she heaved, crying freely into her hands. She felt wretched, like she had committed a terrible crime on to her own self, on to her husband, on to her unborn child. She was a murderer. Her body had killed their dreams, their future.

The blurry figure of her husband opened the door very slowly. His face was as white as the snow that covered the isle of Britain in the dead of winter. She tried containing her sobs and caught his empty gaze with her flooded eyes. They stayed like that for a moment until he finally walked to her bedside and held her against him like she was a delicate flower. She collapsed into another fit of tears, overcome with guilt. The wetness on her shoulder was the only indication that he, too, felt her pain. But it would never come even close to hers. _Never._

She anticipated Harry to come through the door. She longed for his embrace, for his voice, for his scent. She _needed_ him.

She waited. But he never came.

A/N: Evidently, this is where Canon stops and A/U starts. Please review.


	4. A Shred of Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: Happy Birthday, Hermione!

XX

The smell of Christmas permeated the senses as families gathered together to celebrate this magical time of year. Flurries sprinkled the ground with a fresh layer of icing, the snowflakes falling lazily from the heavens. It was only mid-afternoon and already the sun was beginning to set, but it never really got dark, not with the multitude of lights that illuminated houses and trees.

Hermione and Ron carved their way to the front door of the Potters' residence in Godric's Hollow, hauling bags that looked deceivingly small.

"It still amazes me how much work we've put into this place. You could never tell that Voldemort had broken in and wreaked havoc all those years ago," Ron said.

"Ron, you truly can be inappropriate sometimes. Why would you bring that up?" The night hadn't even started and already she was irritable; that wasn't a good sign.

"I'm just saying," Ron muttered. "Stop snapping at me, will ya?"

Hermione puffed up but reeled in her anger. It was pointless to start an argument _again_. She put down one of the bags she had magically enlarged to carry a mountain of gifts to knock on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again, louder this time. She looked at Ron, puzzled, and he was about to belt out a "Hello?" when a tidal wave of snowballs erupted from behind the house and doused them with freezing snow, leaving them completely dumbstruck. They ran to the backyard and discovered a full on snowball war. They abandoned their bags as Hermione joined the girls' side and Ron the guys'.

It was very refreshing to act like a kid once again, where one game became all that mattered.

Suddenly, the guys invaded the girls' territory, running at full speed. Confusion ensued. Hermione thought she bumped into Ginny, or maybe it was Neville. There were people everywhere but it was so hard to distinguish who was who. All the while she kept magically throwing snow in all directions. She was then tackled into the fort and she squealed in surprise. She wrestled her way to the top but her opponent overpowered her and soon they were rolling around in the freezing snow in a fight for dominance. Her limbs were going numb but she couldn't care less; she wanted to show this guy, whom she assumed to be Ron, exactly who was boss.

She swiftly wrapped her legs around his waist tightly and swung her weight over so she was straddling him. She pinned his arms to his side but he resisted and tried pushing her off. She held on and brought his hands over his head, her face mere inches away from his. She was about to taunt him when her breath caught in her throat.

Suddenly she didn't feel so cold anymore.

Harry took advantage of her surprise by turning over their position and locking her into place beneath him.

"Say you give up," he demanded with a large grin.

Her head spun as though she had taken a shot of firewhiskey. She went into autopilot as her competitive side took over and struggled to get out of his grasp. She managed to free her right hand; she promptly filled it with snow and smeared it across his face. His reaction allowed her to escape.

"I don't think so," she said victoriously.

He plopped down into the snow in defeat and nodded his head once as though to show he accepted his loss.

"Truce?" He extended his right hand for her help.

"Very well." She smiled and pulled him up. Then a snowball was flung into her face by his left hand and she gasped.

"This is where I run away," Harry said and he bounded over to the others who were going back inside the house for warmth.

"Harry Potter! You are _so_ dead!"

XX

The dining table was large but filled to the brim. The buffet, meticulously prepared by Molly and, to some extent, Ginny consisted of a plethora of turkey and meat pies, sweet potatoes and bread, cranberry sauce and gravy. The room boomed with the reverberation of chatter; people were talking over others, some were yelling across the room. Harry, Neville and George were engrossed in a debate about Quidditch and who would make it to World Cup Finals that year. Ginny, Fleur and Angelina were discussing wedding arrangements – George had finally proposed so yet another Weasley would sadly be taken off the singles market for good (as he liked to put it) – Molly, Arthur and Andromeda were making playful conversation with Teddy and Victoire who seemed more interested in building forts out of their food. Ron and Luna were talking about something or other, but whatever it was, it made Ron awfully jumpy.

Hermione merely stared at the food on her plate and found she was incapable of eating anymore, leaving her with nothing to do to look distracted. She ran through her head for what seemed the thousandth time since they sat down the recent assignment that she had been working on during her time off. However, it had come to the point where she could no longer improve it without research. She heard Molly exclaim to her husband how she simply could not wait to have the place swarming with grandchildren. Her gut twisted.

December marked the ninth month since the horrific ectopic pregnancy. Had it been a normal, healthy pregnancy, she would've had a beautiful baby boy; she would be holding his delicate head in her loving hands while making cooing noises like obnoxiously annoying parents. Or maybe it would've been a girl, with curly cues and the cutest little fingers and toes.

The incident had left a large fissure in her relationship with her husband. The scar from the miscarriage ran unfathomably deep. She found it was difficult to connect emotionally with Ron, the fact that they had so little in common added to their predicament. Their fights were growing increasingly worse, involving more serious issues. Her marriage felt like a vortex, sucking the strength from her little by little, and she had no one to pull her back on to solid ground.

Hermione sniffled softly. Thankfully, no one noticed.

"Hey, I'm still the only free man at this table! Harry's the one sporting the ball and chain," Neville exclaimed, most likely defending himself after one of George's rude jokes. Apparently the Quidditch talk was over.

"Oh really? Then what's this I hear 'bout you and Hannah Abbott?" Harry countered.

"That," Neville emphasized, "is none of your business. Point is, _you're_ the one with the wedding band. Pretty soon you'll have crying monsters and diapers to change 'cause the Missus will always be _too tired."_

Hermione excused herself from the table and didn't return until dessert had been served.

XX

Everyone crammed into the living room to exchange the gifts that were piled up to the ceiling. The volume had sky rocketed what with the added excitement and the heart felt "thank you's" that were being cried from every direction. Near the end, however, there was one simple card, clad in a green envelope and labeled by fine handwriting, that caused everyone to go silent:

"'To the Potters, from Draco Malfoy'" George announced.

All eyes shifted to Ginny. Most were confused, some were dumbstruck. Ginny's face became a brilliant shade of red; her eyes popped out like those of a frog. She ripped the card out of her brother's grasp and briskly opened it.

"'Wishing you a Merry Christmas,'" she read. "What's with all the looks? It's just a card from my coach."

Her words didn't soothe everyone's agitation. The room had become stifling.

"Since when is Malfoy her team's coach?" Hermione whispered into Ron's ear, unaware of anything that took place in the world of sports. Ron, however, paid no attention to her.

"Since the beginning of this season in September," Neville answered quietly beside her.

"Doesn't seem very professional," Ron sneered. "Does he send cards to every _girl_ on the team?"

"What does professionalism have to do with wishing anyone a Merry Christmas? In case you haven't noticed, it's addressed to the family, not to _me,_" Ginny was almost seething.

"Been spending lots of time with him nowadays have you? Enough for him to be thinking of you on your time off apparently."

"What are you saying?" Ginny's eyes became slits.

"Ron, leave her alone. You're being ridiculous," Hermione interjected.

"Alright then, let's not get our knickers in a knot," George said. "It's only a Christmas card after all, not a love letter." He picked up one of the last presents to be handed off. "Here we go: to Hermione, from Ha—"

Ron stood up abruptly, his face turning a hot red as he exploded. "_I'm being ridiculous?_" He mocked her tone. "You know what, Hermione? I've had _enough_. I've had enough of never being good enough for you. Can't you do anything other than reprimand every little thing about me? All you seem to do is treat me like a child."

Harry got up and attempted to coax Ron outside but the latter refused and carelessly carried on his attack.

"Just because you can't have any children doesn't mean you should turn me into one." Instantly, Ron's face fell and he sputtered.

That was one blow too many. It hit her dead on her porcelain heart and it cracked until it burst into a thousand shards that cut her as they fell like rain. Outwardly, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but with all the pride in her being she ordered them not to fall; absolutely do not _fall_. She barely gathered the words she wanted to stab him with, slice him with, cut him open and spill his guts with, when gasps filled the room. If it wasn't for Ron cupping his face, she would never have believed it happened.

Harry punched Ron.

"Get out of my house. _Now_," Harry demanded in a dangerously low voice.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Ron tried to apologize but she would hear nothing of it.

"Stay away from me." The last thing she saw before apparating was Ron's ghost-pale, horror-struck face.

XX

She ended up apparating to her parent's old house where they lived before taking up permanent residence in Australia after the removal of the Memory charm. This was the house in which she grew up. The house she could never _really_ return to, where she had received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, where she had studied nonstop anything and everything she could lay her eyes on…

Where all she had talked about during summer vacation was Harry Potter.

She conjured a large winter coat, sat down on the curb and hugged her knees. In the familiarity of her childhood home, she remembered their exhilarating adventures as kids, remembered the first hug she'd ever given a boy, remembered the first interest she had in something other than knowledge. Her perceptive mother had detected her "feelings" from the beginning, teasingly claiming that her daughter had found her soul mate and that she looked forward to meeting her future son-in-law. Her younger self had blushed and quickly disproved all speculations.

Everything changed, however, when Ron immaturely began his jealous fits and Harry had fallen for an Asian beauty to whom she would never compare. As time passed, quite frankly, she had forgotten about her young crush on the boy who had become her best friend. Until, that is, they nearly slipped into something more on that fateful night in the tent. Though she hadn't realized it then, being too emotionally attached to Ron (she snickered at the irony), her subconscious had dug up what had been buried for years.

And then she had started to _wonder._

If only she had listened to herself. Then she wouldn't be here, weeping into the empty, desolate winter night in the bitter cold and biting snow. She wouldn't be barren, she wouldn't be depressed, she wouldn't be alone.

She didn't notice the presence of another until strong, warm arms wrapped themselves around her and a sturdy shoulder invited her to cry freely. And cry she did. She didn't know for how long. The church bell rang through the streets, indicating that it was midnight. The hand that had been comfortingly running through her hair began to wipe away her tears.

"You can stay over tonight if you need," Harry said softly. "Everyone went home."

She sniffled. "I'm sorry for ruining Christmas."

"Don't say that. You know you had nothing to do with it."

"You know that's not true."

Harry lifted her head so she would see his serious look. "Ron has anger issues, everyone knows that. It's _not_ your fault."

Her lips parted to protest but his unrelenting gaze silenced her. Despite her better judgment, she greedily drank in the contours of his face, the texture of his hair, the color of his eyes. He was so heartbreakingly close, she could feel his warmth through the layers of her coat as it spilled into her like hot liquid. How her hand twitched to glide through his locks, to feel his flushed cheeks and trace his chapped lips that were mere inches away. She wished she knew how to turn off this burning desire before it consumed her and left nothing more of her but ashes.

Her eyes shone with surprise when she thought he leaned toward her, almost unperceptively thinning the space between them. His eyes were moving over her face much like hers had his, one instant on her eyes, then on her hair and – dare she even dream? – on her lips. He couldn't be considering…?

"I have a present for you." He cleared his throat and reached into his coat to retrieve it, leaving her quite flustered. She mentally berated herself for her idiocy. "You better open it fast; it's been in there for a long time."

She was puzzled as to what he could mean by that. She held the package and for a fleeting second thought she felt something scurrying inside. She tore off the rather clumsily taped wrapping, revealing a plain cardboard box. She lifted the top and her jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, seeming to know the answer.

She delicately wrapped her hands around the tiny waist of the Kneazle cub that was excitedly playing with its lion tail. The little cat-like creature then lightly bit down on her fingers, unaccustomed to being held, then licked them with its sandpaper rough tongue. She enveloped it in the blankets that layered the interior of the box.

"She's beautiful," Hermione breathed. The cub had short black speckled beige fur and pointed ears with little hairs poking out. Its sharp eyes were jade, uncannily close to Harry's own mesmerizing emerald.

"Thank you," she said, holding the bundle close to her. The feline yawned, revealing its two rows of small teeth before it snuggled into the warmth of the blankets and dozed off.

All her problems seemed far away now; Ron, her crumbling marriage, her unrequited love… In this moment, she was happy. In the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world because she was never alone, not really. He was always with her in times of despair, and he gave her hope, he gave her strength_, _to pick herself up, to keep holding on. And that's all she needed for now.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione." He kissed her temple. She trembled.

Her mouth said _Merry Christmas_ but her heart beat _I love you._

XX

A/N: Here are a few things I feel like saying:

This may be my way of coping with the dreadful oncoming winter season.

In this story, I'm assuming that Crookshanks has by now died of old age.

The ending is reminiscent of the graveyard scene in the Deathly Hollows part 1 movie where Hermione surely meant "I love you."

Does anyone else have a feeling that Harry is seeing her in a new light?

Thank you for reading, please review.


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